Devil May Cry
by sofia313
Summary: Being married off to a man known for his cruelty isn't something Celine de Beaumont has dreamt of. She is hoping to find some kindness in Tristan de Martel, but soon she finds herself in the middle of a very dangerous game of life and death.
1. Prologue

Southern France, near Marseille, 1002

"This…This is a catastrophe," Lord Damien de Beaumont snorted. "What was father thinking…?"

His piercing eyes stared at the young woman, his youngest sister Celine who was sitting in the carriage opposite him. Her hands were folded in her lap; nervously she kept chewing on her bottom lip and rapidly blinking her pale green eyes. He had just discovered that she was lacking all the basic skills of a lady; there was nothing graceful about her. How was he supposed to pull this off?

"I…I am trying, brother…" she muttered.

Damien's eyes narrowed.

"You are trying? Well, that's just wonderful! How about you try harder!"

His shouting startled the girl, but he was too annoyed to care about that. Honestly, what had his father been thinking? Of course Damien understood how important the alliance with the Count de Martel was to them, but this marriage… Celine wasn't in any way a suitable wife for a man like Tristan de Martel. She had spent most of her life in a convent for heaven's sake; she hadn't been trained for this.

If only his two other sisters wouldn't have been married off already… Damien sighed and rubbed his temples, this was completely hopeless. His sister was dumb as a box of rocks and he had less than two days to train her before they would arrive to Marseille. This would take nothing less than a miracle.

"Alright," he sighed. "Alright. I will do what I can, but it is best for you to keep your mouth shut. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Yes, brother."

"I mean it; do not say anything unless someone addresses you directly. And keep your answers as short as possible. We do not want Count de Martel's son to call off the wedding because he discovers how dumb his bride is." Damien paused and rolled his eyes. "After all the generous donations father made for the convent, those nuns could have at least taught you something useful…"

Not that it really mattered. Her being stupid wasn't the biggest problem. No, she had to be crazy as well, although the nuns had assured that they had beaten all the evil out of her. That was why their father had sent her to the convent when she had been a child. Well, crazy or not, she was still their father's daughter which made her a noblewoman.

Still Damien thought that their father should have left her in the convent; she was nothing but a disgrace to their whole family. Giving her to Count de Martel's son was a huge mistake. Knowing Tristan de Martel's reputation, he would break Celine or at least get bored with her quickly. She had absolutely nothing to offer to a man like him.


	2. Cruel fate

**Chapter 1**

 **Cruel fate**

Tristan de Martel had woken up early, as he usually did. He had never required much sleep and he had got plenty of things done before breakfast. Today was the day. His bride would arrive. The thought didn't really affect him much; he had agreed to marry this girl because the alliance with Count de Beaumont was more than beneficial for his family. And as his father kept pointing out, it was time for him to take a wife and have an heir. A son. Hopefully the girl's appearance would be tolerable. Count de Beaumont's delegate had assured that she was a graceful and obedient young lady, a perfect wife. It made no difference to him if she was obedient or not, she would still learn her place soon enough.

"Tristan!" Aurora's voice called when he headed to the dining room.

He turned around and waited for her, she was approaching him across the hallway.

"Good morning, brother," she said smiling and kissed his cheek.

He smiled at her fondly. She was the only person who got to see his caring side, because she was the only one he cared about. His sweet innocent little sister. Tristan had always been overprotective of Aurora, but he didn't see anything wrong in that. She was fragile, delicate, she needed to be protected.

"Good morning," he replied.

"So, are you excited?" Aurora asked.

Tristan raised an eyebrow.

"Excited?"

Aurora seemed amused.

"Yes, brother, excited. You will meet your wife today. If I would be in your place, I would be very nervous, but also excited, I think."

He couldn't help but to smile at her innocence.

"Yes…"

Aurora tilted her head.

"Are you not at least curious to meet her?"

"Of course I am," he replied calmly. "I have been told that she will make a good wife."

Aurora was quiet for a moment before replying.

"Am I going to lose you?" she asked quietly.

"What? Of course not, why would you even think something like that?"

She looked at him shyly.

"I… I just thought… Will you have time for me anymore after you are married…?"

"I will always have time for you, sister," Tristan cut in. "That will never change."

She smiled at him warmly and hugged him. It was true that he had always spoiled his sister, she had got used to getting all his attention. Sure he has had lovers, but they hadn't really meant anything to him. He was known to be cold, cruel and ruthless; no one wanted to be on his bad side. He didn't think that getting married would really change his life much; it was simply a responsibility he needed to fulfill.

* * *

"Welcome, my lord," Lucien said and bowed respectfully. "His Grace sent me to escort you to the castle."

The Lord Damien de Beaumont glanced at him coolly; clearly he was just as arrogant as all the noblemen. He was a tall man who had dark hair and piercing grey blue eyes. Everything about him said that he was a harsh man who was used to giving orders. This lord was traveling with the biggest convoy Lucien had ever seen, there were four carriages and at least 50 soldiers escorting him. They had just arrived to Marseille and stopped near the border.

Of course Lucien understood why the convoy was so big; they were escorting the Lord Tristan's bride and her dowry. Lucien already felt sorry for the girl. From the corner of his eye he noticed a young woman who had just got out of the carriage, apparently wanting to stretch her legs. Was this her? His first thought was that she was lovely. Her silky black hair was down and her green eyes looked around curiously. Lucien cleared his throat and continued, explaining to the Lord Damien how far the castle was. He didn't have time to finish when the girl approached them, Lucien bowed at her.

"My lady."

She looked at him and smiled.

"Hello."

"Celine," Lord Damien stated tensely. "Get in the carriage."

"Brother, I was hoping to maybe take a little walk…"

"Get in the carriage," Lord Damien repeated, this time his tone of voice was threatening. "Now."

She turned around and walked back to the carriage without saying a word.

"Lead the way," Lord Damien ordered, he didn't even bother to look at Lucien.

"Yes, my lord," Lucien replied and bowed.

Lord Damien went after the girl who had just climbed back into the carriage. Lucien felt nothing but sympathy for her. Marrying Tristan was a fate he wouldn't have hoped for even his worst enemy.

* * *

Celine de Beaumont had been called many things. Stupid. Crazy. Useless. Weak. She was none of those things; at least she didn't think so. Perhaps she wasn't like most people, but she wasn't crazy. She simply saw things other people couldn't see. Her mother, Lady Jacqueline, has had the same gift or curse and she hadn't been able to handle that. Celine's father had shown no understanding to his wife, on the contrary. She could still remember her mother's cries. Her father had been determined to "beat the madness out of her".

Eventually Lady Jacqueline had taken her own life. Celine had been just a small child back then and she hadn't understood to keep her mouth shut. She had certainly learned that after being sent to the convent. The priest had wanted her to confess her sins and beg for forgives. Unfortunately she hadn't understood what she had done wrong. She hadn't understood why they hurt her. The beatings and holding her head under water had been terrible, but not nearly as terrible as "the room". The dark windowless room with nothing in it. Her own personal hell. She had no idea how many days and nights she had spent in that room. It had almost broken her. Maybe now she was going to a new hell. Or maybe not. She hoped not.

"What did I tell you," Damien hissed and grabbed her arm as soon as the carriage was moving. "Keep your mouth shut. Is that too hard to understand? Is it?"

"No, brother," she muttered. "I am sorry."

Celine was aware why Damien despised her so much. He saw their mother in her and it disgusted him. He had considered Lady Jacqueline a weak and useless woman. Their father had certainly taught him well. Celine wasn't weak, she had learned how to adapt, how to keep her true self hidden from everyone. She could handle this, just like she had handled everything else. Despite of what her brother thought, she wasn't stupid, she had listened very carefully his teachings about the court of Marseille.

Maybe she was lacking a lot of social skills after all the years she had spent in the convent, but she doubted that was her biggest problem. Maybe this wouldn't be all bad. She had learned to appreciate every small blessing she got. Not that she considered this marriage a blessing, but it had gotten her out of the convent. Of course it was possible that the place she was going would be even worse. She wasn't foolish enough to expect kindness, but she hoped that her husband wouldn't be as bad as her father. According to Damien, he unfortunately was.


	3. Be normal

**Chapter 2**

 **Be normal**

"The Lord Damien and the Lady Celine from the house of de Beaumont," Lucien said and bowed in front of the Count de Martel's throne.

Tristan was sitting beside his father; his eyes observed the young woman who would soon be his wife, she had just entered the throne room with her brother. She was wearing a peachy silk gown and unfortunately a veil that hid her face. All he saw was a glimpse of black hair. The whole court was present, they were all curious to meet the future Countess de Martel.

"Your Grace," Lord Damien said and bowed. "My father sends his regards."

Count de Martel replied with a brief nod.

"Welcome to Marseille, Lord Damien. Your father is well I trust?"

"He is, Your Grace."

"Good to hear. How was your journey?"

"It was fine, Your Grace."

"Wonderful."

Count de Martel paused and glanced at the girl behind Lord Damien.

"May I present my sister," Lord Damien said and held out his hand for the girl. She moved next to her brother and bowed.

"Your Grace," she said quietly.

Tristan's face was completely callous; he really couldn't form any kind of opinion of his future wife without actually seeing her. Still he was aware of etiquette and stood up.

"My son, the Lord Tristan," Count de Martel stated.

The girl curtsied when Tristan walked over to her.

"My lord," she said.

Tristan bowed and touched her girl's hand briefly with his lips.

"Welcome, my lady," he stated, his voice held no emotion.

"Thank you, my lord. You have a very beautiful home, everything looks so nice, the scenery was incredible, I imagined what it would look like when the sun would set and I noticed there is a river nearby, I love swimming, and the garden looked lovely, I enjoy the scent of lavender and…"

"Please forgive my sister," Lord Damien cut in. "I am afraid the long journey exhausted her. She is usually very _quiet_."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, somehow he doubted that. But perhaps the girl was babbling because she was nervous. Count de Martel was most definitely amused.

"How fortunate for my son. Lift the veil, my dear and let us take a look at you."

The girl hesitated for a brief moment before obeying. Slowly she lifted the veil. Tristan stared at her intently; he liked what he was seeing. Her skin was quite pale; she had rosy cheeks, full lips, pretty face and light green eyes. She looked at him curiously and smiled. He had to admit that he was surprised by that, it wasn't customary for a chaste young woman to so boldly look at the man she had just met. Unlike the most people, she didn't seem to be afraid of him or if she was, she didn't show it. He didn't say anything; he wasn't comfortable starting a conversation with her when the whole room of people was listening to his every word.

"Well… This little flower must be Count de Beaumont's pride and joy," Count de Martel stated.

"Yes, Your Grace," Lord Damien replied. "My father is very…fond of her."

"I am sure he is. I would like to introduce you my own pride and joy, the Lady Aurora."

Tristan bowed at his bride again before returning beside his father. Aurora had moved to Count de Martel's other side, Lord Damien greeted her respectfully. So did the Lady Celine. Tristan kept his face free from emotion when he observed her; he had no idea yet what to make of her. That was quite odd, he was usually very good at reading people. There simply was something about her that he couldn't interpret.

As far as he could tell, she seemed to be somewhat lacking the natural elegance all noble girls usually possessed. How had her teachers let that happen, surely she had been trained since she had been a child? She was the daughter of one of the wealthiest noblemen in France, so he had expected either a spoiled princess or extremely well-mannered and obedient noble girl. His bride had caught his interest and her appearance pleased him, but he wasn't able to decide yet what he thought of her.

"Now, Lord Damien, you mentioned how exhausting your journey was, I am sure your sister would like to rest before the feast tonight," Count de Martel said and motioned Lucien to approach the throne. "My personal servant will escort her to her quarters."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Lady Celine replied and curtsied. "It was an honor to meet you all."

She glanced at Tristan and gave him a brief smile before following Lucien. People in the room were whispering to one another, obviously sharing their opinions of the Lady Celine. Count de Martel asked Lord Damien to stay; they had something to talk about.

"So," Aurora whispered in Tristan's ear. "What did you think of her?"

"I am not sure yet," Tristan replied. "We just met."

Aurora smiled.

"I think she seemed sweet. Try to be nice to her, brother. I can only imagine how scared I would be in a strange place, surrounded by people I have never met."

"You have a big heart, sister," Tristan said and kissed Aurora's hand. "No need to worry, I am sure Lady Celine and I will get along fine."

* * *

Celine looked around curiously while walking next to Count de Martel's servant who was very careful not to look at her. It had been years since she had been in her father's castle, but this one seemed somehow nicer. At least for now. She had tried her best and she hoped she hadn't made any crucial mistakes. Sure she had been taught how to act like a lady when she had been a child, but she certainly hadn't been a lady in the convent. She had worked in the infirmary, in the garden and in the kitchen.

It hadn't been all bad after she had learned how to hide her true self and tell the priest and the nuns what they had wanted to hear. She had met many good people and learned all kinds of useful skills. Not very useful for a lady, but she believed she would be able to learn what she needed by keeping her eyes and ears open. Damien had stressed to her that she needed to act like "a normal person". Ever since she had been a child, she had been curious, always wanting to explore new things.

Her mother had often laughed at her little "adventures", but her father had made it very clear that her behavior was inappropriate for a girl. She had needed to act like a lady and become a good wife. The problem was that she wasn't sure how did Tristan de Martel define a good wife. He was known to be a very cruel man, but she hoped there was some kindness in him. She wouldn't know that for sure before she would be alone with him.

"This is a nice place," she stated after a moment of silence.

"Yes, I suppose it is, my lady," the servant replied, he wasn't looking at her.

"Your name is Lucien, right?"

"Yes, my lady."

"How long have you worked here?"

"Many years."

"Do you like it here?"

He tensed before replying.

"Of course, my lady," he lied.

She remembered how servants had been treated in her father's castle and she felt bad for him. He still kept his eyes on the floor when she glanced at him and realized something. He was in love… That made her smile; hopefully the girl would make him happy. She almost asked what his loved one's name was, but thankfully she managed to stop herself in time. Be normal… That didn't work out so well when he opened the door to her chamber and bowed.

"Here we are, my lady."

Her eyes widened when she entered the huge bedchamber, it was…beautiful. She let out an excited giggle and covered her mouth with both hands.

"This…is for me?"

"Yes, my lady," Lucien replied, he sounded confused.

Celine cleared her throat before turning to look at him.

"Thank you very much."

He seemed even more confused, but he bowed quickly.

"You are welcome, my lady."

As soon as he left, Celine let out another giggle and jumped into her canopy bed. A bed… A real bed… Her small room in the convent had been very ascetic and she had got used to that. But this room… It was amazing. She sighed and closed her eyes, the bed felt incredibly soft. For a moment she felt that everything was alright. She didn't have a care in the world.


	4. Bad

**Chapter 3**

 **Bad**

"My-my lady? My lady?"

Celine sighed and blinked sleepily. Had she overslept? Was it morning already?

"Forgive me, Sister Francine," she murmured. "I didn't hear the bells."

"I-I beg your pardon, my lady?" a timid female voice said.

Celine opened her eyes, she was fully awake now. Quickly she got into a sitting position and looked around. Where was she…? It took her few seconds to remember. She was in Marseille. In the home of her future husband. There was a young woman standing next to the bed, she curtsied when Celine looked at her. Judging by her clothes she was a servant.

"Please forgive me, my lady, I… I…"

"It's alright," Celine said calmingly. "What is your name?"

"Jeanne, my lady. I-I was sent here to assist you to get ready for dinner."

Dinner? Celine wondered how long she had slept. The bed had been very comfortable and she had been more tired than she had realized.

"I prepared a bath for you, my lady," Jeanne continued.

Celine looked up and smiled at her.

"Thank you."

The girl looked surprised, but she hid it quickly.

"You are welcome, my lady."

Celine got up and stretched her arms.

"I am sorry for waking you up…" Jeanne started.

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong," Celine cut in. She was surprised that she hadn't woken up when Jeanne had filled the bathtub. Absentmindedly she started to undress; a bath sounded very nice after the long journey.

"May…may I help you, my lady?" Jeanne asked.

For a brief moment Celine was confused until she remembered that a noblewoman wasn't supposed to do anything by herself, not even taking her clothes off. The thought felt strange to her after all the years she had spent in the convent, but she needed to remember her part. She needed to act like a lady.

"Yes, thank you," she said smiling.

Jeanne was clearly nervous when she helped Celine undress.

"How long have you worked here, Jeanne?" Celine asked, hoping to help the girl to relax a little.

"Two years, my lady."

"Oh. Does your family live in Marseille?"

"Yes, my lady."

Celine bit her bottom lip. She hoped that she could ask the girl to call her by her first name, but she knew that wasn't possible. The poor girl would be punished severely for that.

"Do you have…" she started when she climbed into the bathtub, but she didn't manage to finish her sentence. The warm water made her gasp; she hadn't got used to warm baths.

"Is something wrong, my lady?" Jeanne asked quickly.

Celine blinked and touched the water carefully with her fingertips. It was so warm and smelled nice; there was something added in it.

"No, no, everything is fine," she managed to say.

Everything was more than fine. She smiled and sighed in contentment as she sat down and felt the water caressing her whole body. She was in Heaven. With another sigh she closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax. She was happy until she opened her eyes and looked at Jeanne. There were two bloody wounds on her neck. Bite marks. For a brief moment Celine heard her screaming…

"My lady?" Jeanne said cautiously when Celine's eyes widened and she gasped in shock.

Celine blinked and looked at Jeanne again. The wounds were gone.

"Yes?" Celine managed to say after clearing her throat.

"Are you alright?"

Celine nodded, although her hands were shaking. She tried desperately to clear her thoughts. This was bad.

* * *

Tristan kept his face free from emotion when he marched in front of the door that led to Lady Celine's bedchamber. He doubted that the lady was ready, according to his experience of women; he would have to wait for her. He would have a brief moment alone with her while escorting her to the dining hall. Of course the whole court was present tonight. He knocked on the door and crossed his arms. It didn't take long when a servant girl opened the door and curtsied.

"Is Lady Celine ready?" Tristan asked.

"Yes, my lord," the girl replied.

Tristan didn't usually pay much attention to servants, but now he noticed that the girl looked…what, confused? Yes, that was probably the best word to describe it. He frowned and was just about to say something when he noticed his bride. She was wearing an emerald silk gown and her hair was up in a stylish coiffure. She looked ravishing.

"Good evening, my lord," she said quietly and curtsied.

"Good evening," he replied. "Are you ready for dinner, my lady?"

"Yes, my lord," she said and walked over to him.

There was something different about her. She didn't look at him; she kept her eyes on the floor.

"Shall we then?" he stated and offered her his arm. After a brief startled hesitation, she placed her hand upon his forearm.

"Do you have everything you require in your chamber?" he asked while leading her to the hallway.

"Yes, my lord, the chamber is beautiful," she replied. "I am very grateful for your kindness."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Kindness?"

"Yes, the bed is very soft and I truly enjoyed my bath. Thank you."

"Surely those things are not foreign to you?"

"No, no," she replied quickly. "But I believe we should be grateful for every blessing we get."

"You consider a bed and bath blessings?" he stated.

She nodded.

"I do, my lord."

It seemed that she was serious. He wasn't quite sure what to think of that, he couldn't imagine that any noblewoman he had met would agree with her.

"Well… Modesty is a virtue I suppose."

She didn't reply to that, she seemed absentminded and distressed. Nothing like the smiling babbly girl he had met in the throne room. He really couldn't figure her out and he had to admit that it annoyed him quite a lot.

"Is something wrong, my lady?" he asked. "You seem troubled."

"No, no, everything is fine, my lord," she said quickly.

Too quickly.

"I am just a little nervous. I do not wish you to be embarrassed by me."

"I doubt that I will be," he replied. "You look lovely, my lady."

She looked up and smiled.

"Thank you, my lord. You look nice too, you have very beautiful eyes."

He couldn't deny that her words stunned him. Clearly she noticed that, she looked embarrassed.

"I am sorry; I should not have said that."

"No need to apologize," he murmured.

She smiled at him shyly and softly touched his hand. Who was this girl?


	5. Bite marks

**Chapter 4**

 **Bite marks**

Celine couldn't concentrate on her dinner, although she couldn't remember the last time she would have seen so much food. Count de Martel certainly knew how to throw a feast. The dining hall was full of long tables; all the members of the court seemed to be here. Most people were talking, the bards were playing and the jugglers were entertaining people. Celine was sitting at Count de Martel's table along with Damien, Lord Tristan, Lady Aurora and few other noblemen and women.

Obviously Count de Martel enjoyed being the centre of attention; he was sitting at the end of the table. Tristan was sitting beside him, Celine between Tristan and a short and thin young nobleman called Lord Christophe. He was very quiet and serious; he had barely said a word. Celine had no problem with that; she was too distracted to have a conversation. Tristan hadn't really spoken to her either; he was talking with his father and some nobleman sitting opposite him.

All Celine could think about was the bite marks she had seen on Jeanne's neck. What animal could cause such marks? She needed to find that out to save Jeanne. Celine had already told Jeanne to stay out of the woods, but that didn't mean she had managed to prevent her vision from happening. In the convent Celine had learned that she could indeed change the things she saw. Of course she had also learned to keep her mouth shut. She wasn't crazy or evil, at least she didn't think so, but the priest and the nuns would have certainly disagreed.

What would Lord Tristan think if he would ever find out? She swallowed and glanced at him, he was concentrated on his conversation. The memory of her father beating up her crying mother crossed Celine's mind. Would Tristan do that too? Or would he simply cast her out or something worse? She didn't want to find out. But she couldn't simply let Jeanne die either. What she needed was a plan.

Damien had been right; she needed to stay as quiet as possible when she was with Tristan. That way she wouldn't anger him and hopefully he wouldn't pay attention to her investigations. The whole word sounded funny, but it was accurate. She had done this many times before in the convent, looked for information. That was the problem of her visions; she only saw random things from here and there. She had seen what would happen to Jeanne, but she didn't know when it would happen and what animal would attack her. She really needed to… Her thoughts were cut off when a servant girl poured her some more wine. Celine looked up and smiled.

"Thank you."

The girl looked stunned, but she curtsied as quickly as she could.

"You are welcome, my lady."

Lord Christophe glanced at Celine and raised an eyebrow. Celine smiled at him too.

"Are you enjoying the feast, my lord?"

"I am," he replied dryly. "And you, my lady?"

"Yes. There is so much food; I would imagine that a lot of it will not be eaten."

"It will go to the hounds," Lord Christophe replied.

Of course it did. Damien had mentioned that Count de Martel was very fond of his hounds and hawks, he enjoyed hunting.

"Is it customary here to give alms to the poor?" Celine asked.

Lord Christophe seemed surprised.

"No, my lady, I do not think so."

"Why not? Surely there are many poor families who would be grateful for a bread or meat."

The young lord didn't seem to know how to reply.

"If the peasants wish to eat, they must work, my lady," Count de Martel suddenly announced. Celine hadn't realized that he had heard their conversation.

"Well said, Your Grace," Damien said immediately.

Celine looked at her future father-in-law and smiled politely.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but what about those unable to work? Young orphans and cripples…"

"If they are unable to work, then they do not eat," Count de Martel cut in. "It is the part of those who are inferior. Their lives mean nothing."

"I am afraid I must disagree, Your Grace, I believe we are all God's children and that makes us all precious. Every life matters," Celine replied before she managed to stop herself.

Silence followed her words; everyone at the table was staring at her. Count de Martel broke the silence by bursting into laughter.

"My poor son," he chuckled. "It seems you have a lot of training to do."

Celine blushed and lowered her head; she didn't dare to look at Tristan. Everyone else was laughing now, but she didn't hear him laughing. Maybe he was too angry to laugh. Damien certainly was angry; Celine could feel him glaring at her across the table. Why hadn't she kept her mouth shut?

"I am afraid my sister has not been blessed with much intelligence, but I can assure you that she is very trainable," Damien stated. "I have no doubt that my lord can easily put her in her place."

Tristan didn't say anything, his silence felt nothing but ominous. Celine tried her best to stay calm; she needed to prepare for the worst. It was very likely that Tristan would hurt her as soon as they would be alone. The thought terrified her, she couldn't deny that. All her appetite was certainly gone, but she tried to swallow few bites.

When she finally dared to raise her head she noticed Lucien, he was looking at her compassionately. She smiled at him, grateful for his kindness. It occurred to her that he might be able to help her. Surely he knew what kind of animals there were in these woods. She simply needed to find an opportunity to have a word with him. The idea sounded good, she was trying to formulate some kind of plan when she glanced at the servant girl who was pouring wine to the lord sitting opposite Celine. Bite marks… Her dead eyes staring into emptiness… Celine gasped and managed to knock over her wine goblet. Unfortunately all the wine was spilled on Tristan. Oh no…

"I-I am so sorry, my lord…" Celine started and quickly stood up. He stood up as well, his face was completely blank. This was just perfect; she had managed to anger him even more.

"Please allow me to wash your tunic…"

"That won't be necessary, my lady," he replied, his voice held no emotion.

Celine tried to desperately think something to say, but Count de Martel spoke first.

"You seem tired, my lady. Perhaps you should retire."

"Yes," Damien said quickly. "I will escort her…"

"I believe I would like to do that," Tristan cut in. "If you do not mind, Lord Damien."

"No, no, of course not, my lord."

Celine kept her eyes on the floor and curtsied as calmly as she could.

"I bid you all good night."

Her heart was pounding like a drum as she followed Tristan to the hallway. He hadn't offered her his arm, but she hadn't expected him to. He was probably furious. Should she try to apologize again? That probably wouldn't do her any good; he wasn't exactly known to be merciful. She could only hope that he wouldn't hit her on the face or break her bones. She remembered how her mother hadn't been able to get out of bed after her father had broken few of her ribs. Celine had tried her best to comfort her mother, but she had just cried and said that she didn't want to live anymore.

The abuse Celine had experienced in the convent hadn't been nearly as bad as the abuse her poor mother had been through. She shivered when they approached her chamber, Tristan hadn't said a word. He opened the door and motioned her to enter. She did, hoping to see Jeanne or anyone, but there was just the two of them. He stepped inside after her and closed the door. There was nowhere for her to run.


	6. Education

**Warning, some mild mature content**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 **Education**

Tristan crossed his arms and calmly observed his young bride. He kept his face completely callous. His bride however was blinking her eyes rapidly, looking about like a frightened child. She was expecting to be punished. Obviously he would have every right to punish her, they both knew that. After a moment of silence she looked up and glanced at him nervously.

"My lord, I…" she started, but didn't continue when Tristan took a step towards her. Quickly she bowed her head and drew away.

"Do not move, my lady," he ordered, keeping his voice free from emotion.

She shivered, but obeyed. He marched over to her and slowly leaned towards her.

"Look at me," he ordered.

Again she obeyed, although she was trembling with fear. Her light green eyes looked at him timidly. Tristan knew that to her this moment would define their marriage. It would tell her what kind of a man he was. He certainly didn't consider himself a kind man and normally he had no problem with being feared. On the contrary. His father had never been a kind man either and he had taught Tristan that kindness was nothing but a weakness.

Tristan couldn't remember ever seeing his father showing any kind of affection to his mother. No, she had been afraid of her husband. She had been a warm and gentle woman, perhaps too fragile for her own good. Tristan remembered how she had held him and sang him to sleep when he had been a small child. He had always felt safe with her and he could still remember her smile and the sound of her voice.

His father had shouted at her, accused her of making Tristan weak by coddling him. Men weren't weak. He wasn't weak. He couldn't let his bride to make him look weak in front of his father and the whole court. And yet… He didn't want his wife to be afraid of him. Obviously she needed to obey him, but he believed he could make her understand that without making her afraid of him.

"I need you to listen to me very carefully now, my lady," he started firmly. "You must _never_ again talk back to my father. Do you understand?"

She nodded quickly.

"Yes, my lord. I…I am sorry, I didn't mean to be disrespectful…"

"Make sure you never do that again," he cut in. "I am sure my father forgives you this once, you were tired after your long journey."

She looked at him for a brief moment before replying.

"And you, my lord? Will you forgive me?"

"As long as you do not cause me any more shame, my lady," he stated, sounding harsher than he had intended.

A faint flush was rising in her cheeks as she bowed her head.

"I won't, my lord."

She looked embarrassed and…hurt. Like a child. He could clearly see the innocence in her. It was quite strange. He had got used to the ingratiating noblewomen, but she didn't seem to pretend to be anything she wasn't. Yes, perhaps she needed to be taught some things, but he couldn't deny that he found her innocence…intriguing. He had no doubt that he would enjoy their wedding night.

"Alright," he stated after a moment of silence. "I assume that we understand each other now."

"Yes, my lord."

"Good," he replied and bowed briefly. "I bid you good night, my lady."

"My lord?" she said when he headed to the door.

He turned to look at her.

"Yes?"

She walked over to him and looked up, giving him an insecure smile. Then she pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. The kiss was brief and featherlike but he had time to register the warmth and softness of her lips. For a brief moment he was too stunned to react, but he got over that quickly.

"What was that?"

Again his tone of voice was unintentionally harsh and again she looked embarrassed.

"I… I am sorry," she murmured and took a step back. "I thought…"

She startled when he took a hold of her arms and drew her to him. The frightened look in her eyes made him feel something quite… improper. He couldn't deny that it aroused his predatory side. Right now she looked like the most delicious prey he had ever seen.

"My lord, please…" she said quietly.

"Shh," he hushed and touched her soft cheek with his index finger. "You can consider this your first marital lesson."

He leaned forward and drew her into his embrace, his gaze moving from her eyes to her lips. It wasn't difficult to see how scared she was, unsure of his intentions. For some reason he felt the need to calm her, at least a little.

"No need to be afraid, my lady," he hummed softly. "This won't hurt at all."

She was stunned as he brushed her mouth with his, softly massaging his lips with hers. She tasted just as delicious as he had thought; he let his lips and tongue explore every part of her lips. At first he didn't get any response, but slowly he managed to soften her lips to better fit his. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands; eventually she put them on his shoulders.

He allowed her to take a short gasping breath before he covered her mouth with his, kissing her more deeply. This time his mouth was firm and demanding, his tongue demanded her to open her mouth. She did and he felt her clumsily kissing him back. She startled again as he slid his tongue into her mouth. Cautiously she responded, reaching out and lightly touching his tongue with hers.

He was nothing but pleased as she slid her arms over his shoulders and then wrapped them around his neck. His blushing bride seemed to be a fast learner. Unfortunately he couldn't let things get carried away, not tonight. It would be an insult to her father to claim her before the wedding. His body however refused to understand that, he drew her more firmly against him, so tight that she could feel the growing evidence of his arousal. He needed to stop right now. Somehow he managed to pull away. She was panting and her cheeks were pink. Slowly he brushed his thumb across her flushed skin and leaned forward.

"Sweet dreams, my lady," he whispered in her ear.

She blinked her eyes rapidly, unable to say anything as he turned around and walked out.


End file.
